Shape Shifters Grind, pull, release :arrow: repeat. I poured coffee into numerous mugs as I discreetly watched a man in a crisp black business suit, greedily sip his black coffee. Funny thing is that this isn't the first time I've watched him not even blow into his drink, that would be at least 93°C (those poor, poor taste buds), and drink it like it's water. It's the 7th. The past 7days I've worked here, a man with a smooth, caramel complexion; walks into the café, slips the same order across the counter-yes, he slips his frigging order, no sense of vocal communication whatsoever :roll: and walks into his usual seat. Clean booth, tinted windows, and small light. Just like his coffee-clean, black, and light on the sugar. Shaking my head I continue serving and passing down the coffee mugs, wondering, thinking, reminiscing, if I'm the only one who is like this. I take one glance at the man again and as if he could sense me looking at him, he catches me staring at me. :shock: Well, crap. It's too late to back out now, so I stare back. As a few seconds pass I start to notice something, something I should've noticed whenever this man walked in when I thought that it was just my wishful thinking. This man, this suspicious guy who looks like he owns a Christian Grey dungeon, had the same eyes as me. Firey-orange iris, with specks of black, and a pupil that changes to a shape of a cat's when light glares on it. My lips transfix into a shape of an 'o' when his eyes go back to normal as if I imagined the whole change. Plain, striking, ocean; blue. Normal pupil. Maybe I was imagining it, just to console myself from being the only one having these weird changes to my body. Clenching my jaw I look down at my arm and fold my palm and fingers into a strong fist. My eyes burn in fascination when silk metal envelopes my whole forearm into some sort of arm armor, like second skin. I release my fist and look back at the man. His eyes change again, and again, and again, Fiery orange-back to blue, and again; all whilst staring at me with an unfamiliar smile on his face, as if it didn't belong there, or this was its first time resurfacing after a long time. Feeling very exposed and completely helpless on what to believe, I wipe the counter and throw it into the sink. "This was a mistake." I mumble softly and pat my hands on my apron, I need to get out of here now. I knew I was the only one left I saw them get killed I saw them leave me. Watching this man was a mistake, thinking he was like me was a mistake. Mistake after another, I need to leave-now. Changing my tracks, my sneakers squeak against the tiled floor as I bolt through the staff door, already have thrown my resigning notice on my boss's desk. I rip the apron off me and throw it to the nearest thing in my sight and jump on my bike, away from the town. There's nothing for me here, there's nothing for us out here. As I left, I saw the Christian Grey wanna-be leave as I bolted out of the store, at the corner of my eye I saw him leave at 4pm. He normally leaves at 6pm. Scratch that, he always leaves at 6pm. Imagination don't play with me like this, it's not funny. Who and what is he?
Fresh coffee is brewed at 200°F (93°C) if he was drinking it at 37°C that's around body temperature, not that hot. But served beverages sit around 170-180F which is 78-82C quite hot, his luke warm coffee is probably what caused all this, no one likes coffee that has sat to high room temperature. :lol:
All facts put aside, this was something I had just done for some fun and fill boredom, 2am at that, you also could've gone and told me how human iris's can't be like cats but anyway, thanks. .-.
A lot of what makes fiction so engaging is that a lot of it has a probable standing in the real world, the what if question that plagues most minds. Having a hook of realism in a work of fiction draws in the interest of the more curious minds. So my correction wasn't ment to dismiss your work of fiction.